


Fate

by Severina



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course he knows. It's not the first time she's sought him out in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's smallfandomfest for the prompt 'nightmares'
> 
> * * *

The water is bracingly cold. Chloe shivers even as she wades happily into the pond, grateful for the respite from the heat of the day, from a seemingly endless trek across practically barren ground in a search for roots, for berries, for anything to return to the Destiny so that their trip through the Gate won't have been in vain. She laughs, and the sound of it bounces across the water and echoes among the trees.

"Not too far, Chloe!"

She waves a hand to acknowledge Matt on the bank. Then wet sand squelches between her toes as she bends her calves to push off from the bottom, and she glides through the water for an endless time before finally rolling over to float on her back. She squints up at the twin suns and revels in the silence. Anything is better than the grey walls of Destiny, with the constant hum of her engines and the hiss of her hydraulics. But this? This is bliss.

For the first time since the attack on the base, she feels at peace.

She rolls again, ducking beneath the surface before rising to tread water. Her long dark hair feels heavy and thick on her shoulders, her yoga pants and top weighing her down. She's drifted further than she thought, Matt merely a speck on the horizon, and as she begins to swim back toward the shore she feels the current tug at her pants. Within three strokes the gentle yank has become insistent; within six, she is struggling to keep her head above the water.

She has barely managed another dozen strokes toward the bank before she feels the four long jointed fingers curl around her bare ankle.

She screams then, shrill and sharp; sees Matt look up and shade his eyes. "You comin' in?" he calls out casually. "Gonna be dark soon."

She screams again when the suns disappear behind the clouds, screams until her throat is raw and the only sound that will emerge is a guttural croak. She thrashes against the implacable hold on her foot, her flailing arms and legs churning up the water. She can see them now, below the surface – the ridges on the crests of their pointed heads and their cool eyes glowing, appraising, cold and pitiless as the fingers grip tighter and haul her under. 

She swallows a mouthful of dirty pond water and thinks she's still screaming even as they tow her toward the muddy bottom. Her floundering fist connects with sharp sinew and she hears an alien grunt before the chittering begins, the piercing trills and snorts that make up the language of the Nakai. She can't escape, her chest aching, her desperate attempts to wrench herself free becoming more languid as the water fills her lungs. She shakes her head, opens her mouth to scream again, and--

\--and strong arms wrap around her, dragging her to the surface. She emerges into bright sunlight, water and tears mixing on her cheeks; draws in great gasping breaths of air. Clutches at the shoulders of her rescuer, tight. Tighter. She doesn't ever want to let go. 

He smoothes a hand through her hair, from the crown of her head to the middle of her back. 

"It's all right, Chloe," Rush says. "I've got you."

 

Chloe awakens with neither a jerk nor a whimper. She simply opens her eyes, one moment gasping for breath in Nicholas Rush's arms and the next lying in her bed, the only vestige of her dream the cooling sweat on her skin.

She blinks in the grey light of her room, turns her head on the pillow to watch the stars streaming by her window. Then she pushes back the covers and rises to slip into her clothes, eyeing Matt carefully to ensure he doesn't wake. His broad back continues to rise and fall as she studies him, dispassionate. Perhaps she loved him once, or maybe she only loved what they could give each other – comfort in the face of uncertainty, stability in the face of chaos. She only knows now that she still loves his easy smile, his confidence, his loyalty – but she does not love Matthew Scott. It's time she stopped trying to fool herself into believing a lie.

Her bare feet slap on the cool floor as she bypasses his room and makes her way to the bridge. The door opens at her touch and Rush turns in the chair at the sound, brow raised until he sees her silhouetted in the archway. She reaches for the control to shut the door as he simultaneously rises from the chair and holds out his hand.

Of course he knows. It's not the first time she's sought him out in the night.

He meets her in the centre of the room. Usually they sit down on the steps, side by side. Sometimes she tells him of the nightmares; sometimes they only sit quietly and watch the play of light outside the windows, the warmth of his shoulder against hers calming her racing mind. On rare occasions he shares his own equally frightening dreams, though she's certain he truncates them on her behalf. 

Today she takes his hand and tugs him back toward the chair, pushes on his chest until he retakes his seat with a confused frown and then follows him into it; curls on his lap and flings an arm over his shoulders. He opens his mouth to speak, probably to protest, and she shakes her head before resting it on his shoulder. She can feel his breath on her cheek, and a palm flat on his chest reveals the thump of his fast-beating heart. She lets the fingers of her other hand curl into the long hair at the nape of his neck, and feels him shiver and then stiffen at the touch.

"Chloe—"

"There's a reason why I dream of you," she says.

"Yes," he says, his voice tinged with impatience. She is not supposed to deviate from the routine, not supposed to press herself into his arms and ask for anything more than his interest and his empathy. "Because I rescued you."

"Because there was a reason why it was you; why it was me. Because it was fate."

He snorts then. "I don't believe in fate."

"You believe in Destiny," she teases, but he won't let her lighten the moment, won't let her ease them into it. 

"There is no fate," he insists gruffly. "We make our own choices. There is no all-knowing deity guiding us, no pre-destined plan."

"Maybe," she concedes. "But maybe when we make the wrong choices, fate has a way of nudging us back onto the right path." She takes a breath, and cannot deny the rightness of what she is about to say. "Matt isn't the right choice for me."

"Then tell him," Rush snaps, "not me."

"You're the right choice for me," she continues evenly. 

He makes to dislodge her then, sputtering under his breath, but she shifts to face him, pushing back until he can only continue to rise and risk toppling her to the ground or give in and ease back onto the seat. He gives in with a huff of annoyance, fingers clenching around the arms of the chair, and when Chloe shifts again she can feel the interest he tries to deny pressing insistently against her thigh. She smiles then, raises a brow. "You want me."

"I'm a man with a young nubile woman straddling my lap," he bites out. "Forgive me, I'm human."

She's shaking her head before he even finishes talking. "You want _me_ ," she insists.

They have always been truthful with each other, ever since he risked telling her about the tracking device in his chest. They barely knew each other then, until their kidnapping by the Nakai forced them to see beyond the surface. He wasn't just the gruff, egotistical scientist, any more than she was simply a slightly spoiled little rich girl. She sees him wrestle with the truth now; torn between lying to her by denying what he feels and breaking their unspoken vow of honesty, or telling the truth and letting her into his heart. 

"Chloe," he gasps out.

"You don't have to say it," she says. His bristles are softer than they look, and she smoothes a hand down his cheek until he closes his eyes. "Today, we start down the right path."

His lips barely twitch when she presses her mouth to his, but his arms come up to grasp frantically around her waist and pull her tight against him, tighter. She never wants him to let go.

For the first time since the attack on the base, she feels at peace.


End file.
